


Bound By Fire

by Lacrimula_Falsa



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, F/M, Magical Bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 06:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6317560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrimula_Falsa/pseuds/Lacrimula_Falsa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving Loki's life during a quest in Muspelheim, Sif finds herself unwillingly trapped in a lifelong marriage with the trickster. Stripped of her position as Shieldmaiden and the laughing-stock of Asgard's court, she sees only a life of misery and regret before her. But people are not always what they appear to be, and a snake and a thistle might yet come to cherish the other's company. [AU, pre-Thor. Multiple chapters.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crime, Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> _**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own any part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and/or any other Marvel franchise. I write for fun, not for profit.
> 
> _A/N:_ Since I wanted to get to the 'accidentally married' part of the fic relatively quickly, the beginning might appear…short in comparison to the rest. I only hope that it doesn't feel too rushed. Don't like it don't read it, and reviews are better than gold.

_[Sif]_

Sif couldn't help but think that as a Shieldmaiden of Asgard, she really should not be in this position at all.

Here she was, flanked by the Warriors Three and with more than two dozen Einherjar at her back, facing a grand total of _five_ fire-ettin. Yet she had not taken on a defensive stance, had not drawn her weapon or readied her shield. The best soldiers of the Realm Eternal, helpless before a handful of giants.

This was largely due to the fact that said giants were presently pointing spears made of magical fire at _all two_ of Asgard's princes.

Thor, who appeared to have _misplaced_ Mjölnir, and Loki, who to Sif's eyes looked notably worse for wear, bathed in sweat and with dark circles under his eyes. Sif wanted to kill both of them. This was a disaster. An unspeakably huge disaster.

At least they had figured out – rather quickly, all things considered – that the tallest of the ettin women was Sinmara, the ruler of Muspelheim. It hadn't been hard to go from there and conclude that clearly, their plan had failed and Loki's and Thor's attempt to break into Muspelheim's Treasury had been discovered and that the both of them were now, essentially, prisoners of war.

An unspeakably huge disaster.

After long moments of tense silence, Sinmara spoke, her voice deep and rumbling, like crumbling rocks.

"Warriors of Asgard. We have found these two sneaking past the walls of our Treasury. As they are now our captives, you will speak in their defense."

Sif swallowed. She was a warrior, not a law-speaker or diplomat. But alas, she was in charge as Thor's second-in-command, and therefore it was her duty to prevent an incident that could well lead to war. She figured that her only hope, dishonorable as the notion was, was lying.

Muspelheim existed far removed from the other Realms, and the last contact with Asgard had been generations past. Maybe Sinmara was unaware of the fact that she had captured princes of Asgard. For all that Sif knew, the fire-ettin might think that Bor was still king.

Schooling her face into what she hoped was a convincing expression of sincerity, Sif stepped forward, head respectfully lowered.

"Your captives are thieves, your highness. In Asgard we know them well. We were, in fact, sent here to retrieve them before they could steal from you, so they might be returned to the Real Eternal to face justice."

To her surprise, the fire-ettin Queen laughed, a sound like falling rocks.

"Nonsense. Odin Allfather might think us far removed from his golden home, but we are not so uninformed as not to recognize the golden Prince Thor. He wields Mjölnir well, but a hammer cannot harm fire."

Sif felt sweat beading on her face, and not only from the heat of Muspelheim or the blazing flames of the ettin's bodies so close to her. This could end very, very badly.

It was Loki who spoke next, stepping towards the ettin queen so his face nearly touched the tip of her fire-spear.

"Queen Sinmara, I am sure a solution can be found that will be agreeable…"

He never got to finish his sentence, as Sinmara's hand hit him hard across his face, burning his pale skin and sending him sprawling. Behind her Sif felt the Einherjar as well as the Warriors Three ready themselves for a fight, and gave them a subtle sign to hold back. An open battle was the last thing they needed.

"The captives will not speak!" Sinmara looked angry, her eyes literally blazing fire that licked out of her empty eye sockets and mingled with the flames that made up her 'hair'. "One more word and I will remove your tongue!"

Loki, wisely, shut his mouth, still sprawled on the rocky floor and giving Sif an imploring look. In an other situation, she might have found the picture almost comical.

Sinmara turned back towards Sif, the spear in her hand shifting into a flaming scepter. Her fiery hair seemed to form a crown upon her brow, almost as if she was donning signs of rule. She probably was.

"Worry not, Aesir. We have no wish to engender war with Asgard. We wish to be left alone and no more than that. But surely, if we punished Thor, the Allfather would bring the forces of Hel down upon us. We will let Asgard's crown prince go free. We will however" Here she turned towards Loki. "punish the mage."

Sif frowned. That Sinmara revered to Loki not by name or title…maybe the fire-ettin _was_ in the dark about some things after all. It seemed that she did not know about Asgard's _second_ prince, for surely punishing Loki was also an act that would cause war.

Maybe, Sif thought, she could use this to her advantage.

"We thank you for your gracious show of mercy, Sinmara. But surely, you will understand that as a protector of Asgard and it's denizens, I cannot leave on of the Aesir in your hands, unknowing of the fate that awaits him."

The fire-queen frowned at her, and it was a fearsome sight. She fought the impulse to step away from the giants.

"This is my offer. We give you your prince, and will punish the mage as we see fit. We will neither consider this a declaration of war, as well we could, nor seek reparations. Now choose. Accept our gesture of peace… or Asgard and Muspelheim go to war."

Stricken, Sif looked first to the Warriors Three, who stood unmoving but clearly shocked, then to Thor and Loki. Thor looked pained, and Loki defeated.

Struggling for the right words, she cast a helpless look in Loki's direction. He had always been the best at talking his way out of such impossible situations. His weapon was speech, hers was the sword or glaive. But he was no allowed to speak, and she could read nothing in his gaze but wary acceptance. Sif wanted to shake him for being such a spineless coward.

Stalling, she looked back towards the ettin.

"Might we at least know his punishment?"

Sinmara smiled, and the other ettin with her, sharp as blades and without an ounce of friendliness.

"The punishment is death."


	2. The Binding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so, so, _so_ late and I am sorry. I hope you like this next chapter. I'm also sorry for not answering comments lately, be assured that I cherish every single one of them. But I guess an update's better than answered comments? *hopeful look*
> 
> _Teensy tiny warning for a bit of crass language at the end?_

" _The punishment is death."  
_

Sif sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth, feeling a lead weight settle in her stomach.

Behind her the Einherjar had gone completely still, ready to strike at her smallest sign, and the Warriors Three had stepped towards their captured princes on instinct. Thor looked like he was about to do something desperate and rash any second. Loki looked like he was expecting just that and figured that it would probably result in his immediate demise, casting weary glances at his brother.

An _unimaginable disaster_.

"I…is there nothing else…"

Sif closed her mouth before she could show any more weakness by appearing unsure of herself. Clearing her throat, she went against her instincts and took her hand of her sword, holding her hands out at her sides in an imploring gesture.

"Queen Sinmara, the mage is…"

"Ours to punish as we see fit. And we want him dead. If you cannot accept this, we go to war."

Swallowing, Sif shot Loki a questioning look. Should she reveal that he was a prince? It might save his life, but on the other hand it would give Sinmara another royal hostage to hold over Asgard's head.

Almost imperceptibly, Loki shook his head.

He was right, Sif realised. If the ettin queen got wind of his royal heritage, she might well decide to demand something Odin would not be willing to give her in exchange for him, and then there would be war. She might be willing to release Thor, but she would hardly be stupid enough to let _two_ members of the royal family slip through her fiery fingers.

Casting about for something she could say to at least win some time to think, Sif all but blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Do you have to kill him?"

The next moment she wanted to bite her own tongue off for sounding like a child in front of the Queen of the fire giants.  
Sinmara raised a dark charcoal brow, looking down her nose at Sif.

"You would barter for his life. Tell me, is he your lover or your slave?"

Choking on her next breath, Sif stared at the fire-ettin. Surely she had not heard correctly. She was just about to say that Loki was most certainly _neither_ , when a thought made her hold her tongue.

Maybe she could use this to her advantage...

Drawing herself up tall, Sif donned what she hoped was the look of someone speaking nothing but the truth.

"We are bound to be married."

Behind her, Fandral mad a sound like he had swallowed a fly before Volstagg shushed him rather violently. She could _feel_ everyone's surprise radiating out from them, and internally cursed them for not thinking of the obvious.

The one time she did not want to be taken seriously by her brothers-in-arms, and everyone just seemed to assume that she was secretly engaged to Loki.

…But then, maybe they were just surprised that she was using this particular lie, since it was a well-known fact that _love_ was certainly the last thing she felt for the trickster.

Sif couldn't worry about that too much however, as Sinmara leaned forward towards her, a shrewd, unsettlingly calculating look on her fire-face.

"A bound man, is he now? Who would have thought that any woman would lay claim on him."

The ettin queen cast a look over to were the Warriors Three stood, still looking shocked.

"Your companions look surprised. Did they not know about your union?"

"We kept it a secret. Our families would not approve."

Sinmara smiled, thin-lipped and dangerous, bringing her face close to Sif's. The heat of her flames felt like it was burning out Sif's eyes, making tears run down the warrior's face and blurring her vision.

"I see. Well, if you lay claim to him, he might live after all."

Swallowing against the heat-induced dryness of her throat, Sif frowned up at the queen.

"What do you mean?"

Still smiling, the fire-ettin drew back, allowing Sif to breathe easier without the scorching heat so close to her face.

"By our law, a man that is bound to a woman is her possession, and she alone has the right to decide on a punishment for his crimes."

Sif did her utmost not to let the relief flooding her show on her face.

"So if he was…bound to me, you would let him go?"

Sinmara's smile widened, and Sif had the uncanny feeling of walking into a trap with her eyes wide open. But there was nothing for it now, not if Loki's death was the alternative.

"We would. But only if you were bound by our law. It would require a ceremony."

"Of course. We…"

Seeing movement in her peripheral vision, Sif turned towards where Loki was still kneeling on the rocky floor. He was gesturing rather wildly in her direction, making cut-throat motions with his hands. Frowning, Sif shot him a look.

"Sif you mustn't…"

One of the fire-ettin backhanded him, hitting the already injured side of his face and sending him sprawling on the ground with a pained hiss. Then she pointed her fire-spear at his throat.

"The captives will not speak."

Loki opened his hands in an appeasing gesture, looking at Sif and shaking his head all the while.

Well. She had no idea why pretending to be her husband was somehow a worse fate than being executed, but stubborn coward or not, Loki was a prince of Asgard and she'd be damned if she brought him home dead.

"We accept."

Sinmara smiled, and it was even broader and more unsettling than before.

"Good." She turned to the other four ettin, raising her fiery sceptre. "Then let the Binding commence."

Under the wary and surprised gazes of the Warriors Three and Thor and the silent but tense regard of the Einherjar, Loki was ushered forward by his captors to where Sif was standing.

"Sif, what are you _doing?_ "

"Saving your life, _my lord_." She hissed at him, still keeping one eye on the ettin even while glowering at him. "Now I suggest you close your mouth before they burn it off your face."

"Sif you stupid fool, _if they bind us_ it will…"

He never got further than that because in that moment Sinmara stepped towards them and Sif stomped on his foot to shush him before he truly lost his tongue.

The ruler of Muspelheim grinned.

"Are you ready?"

Sif nodded. "We are."

Loki said nothing.

"Good."

Another ettin female materialised next to the queen seemingly out of nowhere, holding a cup, a piece of rope and what looked like a sharp shard of black glass or onyx. Sif eyed them in trepidation. A cup and rope played a central role in a handfasting on Asgard, but the presence of a blade did not bode well.

"Stretch out your hands."

Sif complied. Loki did too, after one of the fire-ettin put her spear to his throat and Sif stomped on his foot again.

Sinmara took the rope and tied it around their hands in an intricate pattern, careful not to burn their skin in a show of unexpected but not unappreciated care. Then she took the cup and filled I with powder made of black rocks from the ground that she crushed with her bare hands.

Raising the cup over their heads, Sinmara handed her sceptre to one of the other ettin before saying what to Sif sounded like a prayer in her mother tongue, the sound like crumbling rocks and hissing steam. Then she upended the cup over the Asgardians' heads with both hands, showering them with dust and making them cough.

"Bound by law, undivided until death. To be broken by ruling hand. May the ancestors hear me."

Sif was still busy blinking dust out of her eyes, not really hearing Sinmara's words.  
Loki made as if to step away, but a fire-giant blocked his path.

Sinmara smiled.

"We are not finished, sorcerer."

Loki paled. Before Sif could even start to be concerned, Sinmara grabbed the black shard from the other ettin and used it to slash across Loki's chest in a lightning-quick motion, the blade carving through his armour as if it was water.  
Sif had no time to react, not even to bring her arm up in defence, before the now bloodied blade was slashed across her collarbone.

She stumbled back, clutching the wound. Sinmara's grin was wild, manic, the flames that made up her body dancing madly. Raising her burning hands, she shouted what sounded like a curse, her words echoing back from the strange not-sky of Muspelheim as from the ceiling of a giant cave. The black blade in her hand lit up like a burning ember, the blood on it gleaming in unholy light.

" _Ezzan Meha Sesset. Rrahri Wan Run. Enemeth Meheth._ To be broken by ruling hand. Bound by magic, life and blood. _**Until death bound by fire!**_ "

Sif felt as if her blood was suddenly boiling, pain shooting through her body. It was as if something inside of her was pulling outward, while at the same time her insides were filled with something cold and strange. She didn't know what it was, but she wanted it _out_.

That was her last thought before the black rocky ground rushed up to meet her.

* * *

 

After how long she couldn't say, but Sif came to to the sound of Sinmara speaking, her voice blurred to Sif's ears as if she was hearing her from under water.

"The prisoner has faced justice. Prince Thor is pardoned. Leave now, Asgardians, and _never_ return. If you ever set foot in our Realm again, you will die where you stand."

The next thing Sif experienced were strange, distorted visions of ice and fire, mixed in with a strange memory of Thor being hit in the stomach by Mjölnir, and then the golden-and-rainbow light of Bifröst taking them away, right before unconsciousness grabbed at her again and pulled her under.

* * *

 

When she woke up for the second time, she was lying on the golden floor of the Observatory, with furious green eyes glaring down at her from a half-burnt face.

The next thing she knew, Loki's flat hand hit her face, hard.

"What _have you done_ you stupid whore?!"


	3. Sif, Wife Of Loki

… _The next thing she knew, Loki's flat hand hit her face, hard._

_"What_ have you done _you stupid whore?!"_

For a moment, Sif simply stayed where she was, until the pain in her cheek truly registered.

Then she jumped to her feet and hit the burnt half of his face with all her strength, gratified when she heard the sound of a joint unhinging.

"How _dare_ you! I saved your life you ungrateful cur!"

The dislocated jaw didn't silence the younger prince for very long, because magic took quick care of such things.

"You _ruined_ my life you daft fool!" Seidr was crackling around Loki's fingertips, and his eyes were filled with rage. "Be grateful that our lives are bound, or I would kill you where you stand!"

Sif had her sword in her hand before her mind had even processed just what madness he was screaming at her. It didn't matter anyway. No one called her a whore and a fool and got away without injury. Loki was a prince of her home realm, and that was the only reason why she would let him live. (Well, that and the fact that she would hardly undo all her hard work in saving said life just to avenge her honour.) That didn't mean that he wouldn't lose a limb.

They advanced on each other, both uncaring about the other people in the Observatory. Sif struck first, slashing at Loki's arm in a bid to draw his attention, while using her left hand to try and stab his leg with a dagger.

' _Try_ ' being the pertinent word, because he caught her wrist and – in a feat of physical strength that honestly surprised her – used his hold to unbalance her, swiping his knees out from under her and throwing her to the gilded floor.

The moment she touched the ground she tried to twist out of his hold, while he did his best to stab her, a knife appearing in his hand out of nowhere.

"ENOUGH!"

Sif and Loki both froze.

When Sif – slowly, ever so slowly – turned her head, she saw Odin dismounting Sleipnir, Gungnir in hand.

"Cease this unworthy fighting, both of you."

Sif immediately let go of her sword, even if it went against her warrior's instinct. Loki was much slower to obey, only letting go of her when Odin took a warning step towards them.

"Loki, apologise for whatever atrocious thing you have said. Lady Sif, I would ask that you graciously overlook my son's transgression, for we have much more important things to worry about at this moment."

Sif got up from the floor, ignoring Thor offering her a hand, and bowed to Odin. Loki glared at his father in undisguised wrath.

"Do you have any idea what she has _done?!_ Be grateful that I only called her a whore, for she deserves much worse!"

"Enough, Loki! We will address her actions in due time, in _private_. But whether she has wronged you or not, I will not tolerate this disrespect. Now apologise."

Loki crossed his arms over his chest, looking for all the world like a stubborn child, if slightly more angry.

"No."

Odin's expression promised dire consequences, but he didn't press the matter. Sif felt worry fill her chest like cold ice. If the Allfather was ready to let this disobedience stand, something had to be very, very _wrong_.

"Very well. We will talk about that later. Now, Lady Sif, I would have words with you and my son." The king held up a hand when Thor opened his mouth as if to protest. "Thor, keep out of this. You have done quite enough damage in getting you and your brother discovered."

Thor looked like he had received a blow to the head, completely stunned and clearly not used to his father scolding him. But when Odin ordered him to bring the injured to the healing rooms, Thor obeyed without making a fuss.

Soon Sif, Loki, the Allfather and Heimdall were the only people in the Observatory. Odin looked at the Gatekeeper.

"Heimdall, my wife's chambers. I think it would be wise to have her advice in this matter."

Heimdall nodded at the king, laying his hands on his sword, still stuck in the Bifröst lock.  
Her brother caught Sif's eye for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then the light of the Bifröst whisked them away.

* * *

 

Sif hadn't known that the Bifröst could be used to travel such short distances. She was still reeling from so many things that she didn't understand happening in such a short amount of time when they appeared in the queen's stateroom.

Frigga looked unsurprised by their sudden arrival, quickly dismissing her handmaidens. Sif bowed hastily.

"Husband."

Odin nodded at Frigga.

"My wife, it seems that our son and the Lady Sif have gotten themselves into quite the situation."

He sounded weary, and Sif felt as if he ice in her chest had spread through her whole body to freeze her solid. She had never, not once in her life, heard the Allfather sound _weary_.

Frigga looked at Sif with compassion in her gaze.

"My dear, why don't you sit down?"

Still feeling like she was drowning in confusion, Sif sat. So did Loki, after Odin bodily pushed him into a chair. Frigga turned towards her son, giving him a stern look.

"Now, Loki, why don't you explain to Sif what she has done that has you so enraged."

If looks could kill, Sif would have dropped dead from the venom in Loki's.

"She trapped us in this…this… _parody of a marriage!_ "

Sif looked at Loki, trying to gauge if he was lying. Surely he could not mean what he'd just said.

Loki looked…well, angry. But there was something else there, in the angry line of his mouth and the unhappy slant of his brows. Something almost like… _defeat_. Sif swallowed.

"I…don't…trapped? But…surely it would be possible to, to dissolve the marriage. Even if Sinmara did a handfasting, that can be...unmade, broken. I am certain, I've seen it done!"

She was vaguely aware that her voice had become shrill and panicked by the end, but the fear and utter confusion she felt wouldn't let her pay it any mind, even in front of her King and Queen.

Surely she couldn't be married to _Loki_. Surely she couldn't be _married_ at all!

Sif had always known, from the moment she had first picked up a sword, that she could be a Shieldmaiden or a wife, but never both. It was why she had never let any man's courting of her get very far, for she had always known that she would spend her life unwed.

Contrary to what most of Asgard thought, there had been Asgardian warrior women before her. Women like Astrid, Lady of Swords and Gudrun the Brave had been her role models as a child, and she had devoured all stories about them and was still able to recite most of them by heart.

But what all of these women had in common was not their skill with weapons, or that they were warriors. No, it was that the moment one of them had decided to wed a man, their days of fighting had been over. The moment they took a husband, they had been forced to lay down their weapons and forsake their warrior ways.

If she was married, all that she had fought and struggled for in her life would have been for nothing, all her training and her perseverance in vain.

_No_. _This was not happening._

Loki's voice was cold and scathing when he replied.

"Ah, Asgardian handfastings are easily dissolved, that is true. But what binds _us_ , my dear Sif, is a marriage by the laws ad traditions of the Fire Giants."

He leaned towards her, as if confiding a secret, but there was something wrathful and ugly in his expression.

"Now, you see, the fire ettin are quite matriarchal people, the blame for the… _failure_ of a marriage is always lain solely on the husbands shoulders."

He leaned back, his expression smoothing out into something almost…gentle, a false mask of calmness, almost like he was indulging her by explaining.

"Do you want to know how fire ettin end a marriage? Should I tell you?"

Feeling strangely numb, Sif nodded. Loki's smile was as fake as the cheap paper flowers travelling merchants sold in front of the whore-houses in the Red Quarter.

"Why, it's quite simple. If an ettin woman wants to get rid of her husband, she does. By killing him."

Sif was grateful that she was sitting down, for surely she would have fallen over otherwise. She felt like someone had turned the world upside down.

"And wouldn't that be a shame, for you did marry me to save my life did you not? Oh, if only you and your ilk could be bothered to touch a book once in a while, then we would not be in this mess!"

The last part he spat at her, the false calmness cracking and his anger returning full force. But it didn't touch her, for she had gone completely numb. Sif saw nothing but the blackness at the edges of her vision and heard nothing beyond the rush of blood in her ears.

She was married. She was _married to Loki_. Married to a trickster, a lying sorcerer and the younger Prince of Asgard. She would never be a Shieldmaiden again, never again ride into battle. Sif would be nothing but the wife of Loki for the rest of her life.

She hadn't known that it was possible to feel numb and like you were about to be sick at the same time, but that was exactly what she was feeling.

She startled when Frigga touched her arm. She hadn't even noticed that the Queen had taken a seat beside her.

"You see now, my dear, why my husband cannot simply unbind you and Loki."

Behind Frigga, standing next to a his still furious son, Odin shook his head.

"I could not have done so even if the handfasting was an Asgardian one. If Loki was no longer married, he would once again fall under Muspelheim's laws. Sinmara would end his life, and could well declare war also." He sighed heavily. "The best we can do is to make this marriage look like a political match. Sif is half-Vanir after all, and even if our alliance with Vanaheim is strong, few would find a marriage to strengthen relations with another Realm suspicious, though surely many will wonder at the suddenness of this particular union. If we are lucky, they will blame it on nothing but my sentimentality towards my son, and think that I simply did not wish to burden him with an arranged marriage to a foreigner. And no matter what they might or might not believe, if I give my blessing they will have to keep it to themselves or risk being accused of treason for questioning their king."

Sif couldn't move. She felt like screaming, but something kept her still as a statue as the Allfather sealed her fate. Frigga glowered at her husband.

Looking uncomfortable in the face of his wife's anger, Odin gestured rather helplessly before donning a regal and commanding expression.

"I understand your displeasure, my Queen, but in this I have to be King first and father second. You know that I love my son dearly, and hold deep respect for the Lady Sif, as one of Asgard's finest warriors. But if their marriage is what will keep us from war with Muspelheim, not to mention safe Loki's life, then they will stay wed. Until death shall part them."

* * *

Sif barely registered that both King and Queen left shortly after Odin's proclamation, with a vague statement about allowing Loki and her "to settle things between them", and a promise from Frigga that should Sif be injured on her return, she would put Loki over her knee no matter his current age. (Though Sif might have imagined _that_ because she was still in shock.)

For a while they both sat in silence, Loki glowering at the ornate floor and Sif staring at her hands. Then Sif forced herself to find her voice, even though talking to the trickster was the last thing she wanted to do.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry…"

He scoffed.

"Well, I'm sure you are very sorry that you're stuck with me for the rest of my life, you don't have to spell it our for me."

"…but why did _you_ have to get discovered in the first place?!"

Loki jumped out of his seat like he'd been stung by a nettle, toppling the chair in the process.

"Thor got us discovered! I certainly did my best to save us with one of my _childish tricks!_ What was I to do, spirit myself away and let him die?!"

"Well I am going to kill Thor."

To her surprise that startled a laugh out of him.

"Oh no, no, you don't. Related by blood over related by marriage, if anyone is going to strangle that blonde oaf it is certainly going to be me."

Sif couldn't quite stop the corners of her mouth from forming the beginnings of a smile.

"Yes, but wouldn't it be far more damaging to his reputation if the great Thor was slain by a woman?"

And just like that the almost palpable tension was broken.

"Stab him with a sharpened comb, it will be a saga for the ages."

She snickered (because a warrior woman didn't _giggle_ like some blushing maiden), and half-heartedly tried to slap him.

"Oh shut it."

"You will find that murdering my brother is a subject I can speak about at quite some length, especially with someone who is as invested in his demise as I am."

She threw a cushion at him.

"Stop it, we'll both be accused of treason!"

"Yes, but you would eventually get to be Queen for your troubles."

He winced a second later, realising what he'd said. Sif felt her momentary good mood give way to helplessness.

"But I don't want to be Queen! I never even wanted to be a princess, even if everyone thought I was going to marry Thor one day."

"I know. I know that you were exactly were and what you wanted to be just yesterday, and so was I. But now we are stuck like this and may only choose between making the best of it or spending the rest of our lives angry and miserable."

Loki's voice sounded honestly sympathetic. Sif looked up at him from where she was still sitting on a low chaise lounge, blinking back tears.

"Does that mean you're no longer angry at me?"

He laughed in a slightly hysterical way, sitting down beside her.

"Oh, I am very angry at you. Have it that I could carve out your tongue and stitch your lips shut like I dearly want to, but mutilating his wife is something the people of Asgard will not tolerate even from their prince."

Sif tried not to visibly recoil. She had always known that Loki could be harsh, but this viciousness still surprised her. He had often spoken to her in anger, but he had never threatened her in any serious manner.

"Surely you don't mean that."

"Oh I mean every word of it _my dear_ , but I have learned the hard way to live with unbearable situations. And as a prince of Asgard I have always known that I would marry whoever my parents choose for me. The only foolish thing I did was to hope that it would be someone who didn't hate me."

Sif blinked, surprised.

"I don't hate you."

"Yes you do."

" _No Loki_. I dislike you and your tricks, and I think that your silver tongue gets you in more trouble than anything else, but I don't hate you. I am just…not overly fond of you."

"You are a horrible liar."

"No, _you_ cannot stand hearing the truth, once you have convinced yourself of some lie."

"Well, we will have to agree to disagree then."

She sighed.

"Yes."

There was a long pause before Sif spoke again.

"What will happen now?"

Now it was Loki's turn to sigh.

"Fa…The Allfather will no doubt announce our engagement at the earliest opportunity, not telling anyone that we are already married of course. The Harvest Festival is in a week, it would be a good time for the handfasting ceremony. He might tell people that I insisted on a small wedding to explain the lack of lengthy preparations, and they will no doubt believe that I am simply being difficult once again. It will be just enough time to prepare suitable clothes for both of us and move our possessions to shared quarters. And prepare for the festivities of course."

" _One week?!_ "

Loki favoured her with a bitter smile.

"Whatever is the matter? Have you forgotten that we are already married? It will simply be one week before the rest of Asgard knows it as well, if Thor and the Fools Three don't tattle beforehand. And no doubt Odin will swear them to secrecy."

"Yes but…" She trailed off, not knowing what to say.

"But nothing. You are my wife now, and in a week you will simply be Prince's Consort as well." He stood up. "And now I believe I should go and assure mother that you are alive and well, least she make good on her threat and smacks me with her hairbrush."

With that he left the room, the doors falling shut behind him leaving Sif alone with her thoughts.


	4. Bride's Day

_[Sif]_

Sif had officially stopped caring.

She was wearing a dress, absolutely _no weapons_ (except for a sorry excuse for a dagger that looked more like a letter opener hidden in her clothes), high-heeled shoes and the most overdone and ridiculous hairdo she had ever laid eyes upon.

Not that she cared.

For the last six days she had watched her life fall apart around her and she was long past the point of rage. Or despair. Or crying. Or all three for that matter.

First everyone, even the Warriors Three, had refused to spar with her.

Then she had been _informed_ , in no uncertain terms, that as she was now betrothed to a man she was no longer a Shieldmaiden but a lady of the court and was expected to act and dress accordingly.

That day she had raged, and cried, and then raged and cried some more until nothing in her chambers was whole anymore and it was the middle of the night. Then she had broken her glaive into pieces and burned them along with the fabric and leather of her armour. The charred metal remains of both now resided in the chest that had been her coming-of-age gift form her parents.

_Out of sight out of mind._ In hindsight it had only brought her regret and not peace, but what was done was done.

Her lessons with Frigga – that mostly consisted of being told to let Loki do the talking and look pretty on his arm even if the Queen did her best to teach Sif all she could – only served to hammer home the fact that people no longer saw her as anything but Loki's bride, and something inside her had eventually snapped.

From one moment to the next she had gone from rage and despair to a cold unfeeling numbness that hadn't left her since, and in a way Sif was grateful for it. The malicious whispers at court, the barely concealed laughter and the pitying looks just didn't touch her anymore.

If this state of not-caring kept, she might just survive the handfasting tomorrow.

She was startled out of staring at the foreign person in the mirror by a knock on the door. Barely a second later it was pulled open, but not by a handmaiden as she had expected.

"Loki?"

"Shhht!"

He made a gesture with his hands, and for a moment they glowed with seidr.

"Loki, what are you doing here?"

He sat down on her bed.

"Hiding."

She glared at him.

"Hide somewhere else. It's Bride's Day, your not supposed to see me."

He gave her a droll look.

"And you are supposed to be out celebrating with your friends and getting flowers put in your hair, though you seem to have enough of them there already."

"Well and why is that?! Because _I have no friends_ you idiot! The warriors look at me like I'm either a doll or a whore and the ladies of the court whisper behind my back that I must be frigid and barren, for why else would I marry you! The maids put flowers in my hair so that it would _look_ like I was celebrating, because woe befall all of Yggdrasil should anyone suspect that I was unhappy!"

Oh, and now she remembered what it was like to _feel_. She wanted to throw something heavy at his head, something that would crush the condescending smile of his face. But Sif shook off the impulse to fling her hairbrush at him (not nearly heavy enough) and forced herself to continue speaking at a normal volume.

"Do you know that they say that I was _unfaithful to Thor_ and that that is why we are to be married? Because clearly the only reason I would settle for you is that I cannot have Thor, and the only reason you would want me is that you are envious of anything and anyone that is your brother's. They don't even care that I've never lain with Thor or even kissed him _in my life_."

Loki just looked at her levelly, not reacting to anything she was saying.

"And who, pray tell, are ' _they_ '?"

The urge to hit him with something returned with a vengeance.

"Everyone! The warriors, the courtiers, even the servants! I am the laughingstock of the palace, and it's only because of fear that no one has called me an unfaithful wench to my face!"

She huffed, suddenly out of breath.

"Well, except you."

Loki raised a brow at her.

"No, I called you a whore."

When she made as if to get up and strike him he held his hand up in a pacifying gesture.

"Peace, my lady. I am not here to fight."

"Don't call me that and what in Helheim do you mean?!"

"I came here to discuss our wedding."

_The nerve._

"What."

Loki dragged a hand down his face, looking very tired all of a sudden.

"Sif, I am the second prince of Asgard. I have always known that I would marry for politics, not love. Granted, I had wished for a _somewhat_ more willing bride but you are what I have now and I will damned well work with it. There are two things I expect from my wife: that she thinks before she acts and that she does not challenge or embarrass me in public. Do that and I will see no reason to make this any harder on you than it has to be."

Sif stared at him.

"Oh don't look like you got struck in the head with Mjölnir. What I'm asking of you is hardly that difficult."

"I'm not sure I understand _what precisely_ you're asking of me."

"Sif, you are to be Prince's Consort. That means that by tomorrow you will be the second-most powerful woman in Asgard. There are responsibilities and dangers that come with that. You will have a duty to the Realm and to the House of Odin, more influence and wealth than you likely know what to do with and all sorts of ill-meaning people clamouring for your attention or working towards your downfall. Court politics are war, and while I am sure that mother has taught you all she could in the short time she was given, you are a stranger to politics, and to royal life. Believe it or not, but I am concerned for you."

Sif couldn't quite help the hysterical laugh that bubbled up in her throat.

"What your mother taught me was to stay close to you and say nothing. To look pretty and not do anything myself."

Loki just looked at her steadily for a moment, and then said with what appeared to be complete sincerity

"That is the best advice she could give you."

When he saw her angry glare he held up his hands as if warding of evil.

"I have been a prince of Asgard all my life, trained for life at court basically from birth. It would be folly to expect that you could learn all that you have to know in order not to hit any political pitfalls in a few days. It will come, in time, but until then your best course of action _is_ to stand quietly at my side, much as you may loathe it."

His expression softened just slightly.

"If it helps, you should know that I am not the kind of man to stifle his wife or keep her under his thumb. Yes, I am still angry at you and still want to strangle my idiot brother, but I do not want to spend the rest of my life caught up in spite. We may not like each other, but maybe we can come to establish a…truce, if you will. Work together to make the best of a despicable situation. I know that you value your independence, as do I, and I will try my best to let you have as much freedom as circumstances allow. The only thing I ask in return is that you are civil to me and that you act like my _wife_ , not my prisoner. Feel free to hate me all you want where no one can see, but in public I expect to be married to a _lady_ , not some recalcitrant harridan."

That wasn't what she had been expecting.

"I am not going to pretend to be some simpering maiden with no mind of her own!"

Loki rubbed his temples as if trying to stave of a headache.

"Damn it to Helheim woman! Why do you always take everything I say to be an insult!?"

He sighed, his gaze fixed on his lap.

"Sif, my anger hasn't blinded me to the fact that you have lost far more in this than I have. You lost your reputation, your calling and your life's work. I lost but some of my freedom and part of my pride. I am simply trying to hold out an olive branch, if you will. We will have most of the court against us, but we needn't fight each other as well."

Maybe it was his honesty, or that fact that he was the first person beside Frigga to see and acknowledged her loss. Whatever it was, Sif found that she couldn't really be angry at the trickster any more. For the moment, at least.

"I accept."

Loki looked up at her.

"What?"

"The olive branch. I accept it. You are right, I have lost a lot. I lost everything. But I am not blind either, and I know that you are as unhappy with this as I am. And you are right, fighting each other would accomplish nothing. We have worked together on the battlefield, and it is as you said: court life is war. I cannot promise to always have your back, but I promise not to stab you in it."

She left her chair in front of the dressing table to sit beside him on the bed. He looked, she thought, astonished and a bit thunderstruck. Clearly that was not the answer he had been expecting. His shocked expression was almost endearing.

"I am not Thor, Loki. I use my head on occasion."

That made him smile.

"Only on occasion?"

She smacked him upside the head.

"And here I thought there was a chance that I could come to _like_ you."

His smile vanished faster than smoke in a storm.

"I hope there still _is_ a chance. That you might – come to like me."

He almost spit the words out, as if they burned his mouth. She put her hand on his shoulder.

"I already do."

"You're still a horrible…"

"Don't. I am not lying. I _like_ you, whether you believe it or not."

Sif hadn't seen Loki look this lost since they were both children.

"You do?"

She smiled at him.

"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't go as planned, now I have to wrangle the story back on track. Anyway, I hope you like this part, do tell me what you think.


	5. Five – Tying The Rope, Part One

_[Sif]_

Sif's face felt like a mask.

Her skin was covered in _hundreds_ of ointments, creams and potions wherever it showed, and her hair had been braided, woven into patterns and drowned in products until it felt more like a helmet than locks.

She was rather afraid to speak, least she undo all the handmaidens hard work by smudging her lip paint.

Less than an hour left before the actual ceremony begun.  
The panic she had expected had not come.

Sif had thought that on the day of the actual handfasting, when she would be named Loki's bride before all of Asgard, she would either kill someone out of wrath or die from sheer misery. But the only thing she felt was a kind of strange detachment, almost like she was only watching the day's proceedings from afar, only interspersed with short moments of feeling.

Her wedding gown was green.

She knew, intellectually, that it was tradition to wear your spouse's house-colours to the handfasting. That knowledge failed to make it feel like less of an insult. Just one more thing stolen from her.

What she could see of the Great Hall looked strange, decked out in snake skins and thistles as it was, and Sif just knew that somewhere among the guests of honour her mother was weeping at the disgrace.

She clenched her teeth behind her painted lips.

_Well,_ mother _, you told me my house symbol had to be a flower. Too bad you never specified which one._

A moment later all thoughts of her family flew out of her head alongside any concerns she might have had for her painted-on face when Loki stepped into the anteroom, looking somewhat harried.

"What in the Norns' name are you _wearing_!?"

"Robes, Sif, I assume you have heard of them. Ceremonial robes, to be precise. The far more pertinent question is what _you_ are wearing."

He made an aggravated gesture that seemed to indicate her gown. Sif sighed, already completely done with the whole horrible day despite the fact that it was only early morning.

"It's a dress."

Loki scowled as if the garment had personally offended him somehow.

"I am _aware_. Where is your armour?"

Sif felt rather like she'd just been stabbed in the chest.

"My..."

"Your armour. You know, that metal-and-leather assemble you like to run around in."

She swallowed against the rage and hurt welling up in her chest.

"I burned it."

He reeled back as if struck.

"You _what?_ "

Sif gave him a flat look. The thought of saying the words out loud pained her, but apparently Loki needed to hear them.

"Why would I keep it? I am no longer a warrior, what use is there in holding onto it like a sentimental fool."

Loki pressed one hand to his temple as if staving off a headache. Then he drew himself up sharply.

"Do not. Move."

With that he whirled on his heels, all but running from the room.

Sif sat down on one of the low-backed chairs, ignoring the fact that it was likely wrinkling her gown.

What did she care anyway. She just wanted this day to be over already.

* * *

_[Loki]_

This was a disaster. An unimaginable disaster.

Loki silently vowed to have whoever was responsible for this drawn and quartered. Repeatedly.

Finally reaching his destination after what felt like hours of running along corridors like an idiot, Loki didn't bother to announce his presence before bursting into his mother's dressing room.

"Mother!"

Frigga turned, clearly surprised by her son's appearance, while her handmaidens made hast to get out of his way.

"Loki. Whatever are you doing here, you should be preparing for the ceremony."

"Sif needs armour."

Frigga blinked, once.

"I beg your..."

"Sif. Needs. Armour."

Frowning at being interrupted, the Queen dismissed her handmaidens with a gesture.

"Loki, speak plainly. Why would Sif be needing armour? Last I checked she had a very serviceable set. And you told me just yesterday that you would change the colours yourself."

"Yes but she _burned_...it got destroyed."

Frigga pressed her lips together in a look Loki had learned to fear during his childhood days.

"And you only discovered this _now._ "

Trying desperately to hold onto the last shreds of his composure, Loki took a deep breath to avoid shouting at his mother.

"Mother, I had _one week_. One week to move all of my possessions into suitable rooms, explain to the Mage Council why exactly I am suddenly _married_ , make sure that everything was in order for Sif to take her new place as my Consort, establish my own household, find servants, get my affairs in order and _prepare for the Norns-forsaken ceremony_! Excuse me if I failed to consider that my _wife_ , the proud _warrior_ , might have _burned her thrice-damned armour_!"

Alright,so he might have ended up shouting despite his best intentions.

Frigga made a quiet shushing noise, gently clasping his wrists to restrain his wild gesturing.

"Loki, breathe. I did not mean to imply… It was thoughtless of me, you had a lot on your mind these last few days. Have you meditated at all?"

"Meditate? When am I supposed to _meditate_?! More importantly _how_ am I supposed to meditate?! My mind is certainly not _calm_!"

"Yes, I can see that."

Loki sometimes forgot that he had inherited his penchant for sarcasm from his mother.

"Now, my son, do not fret. I am sure that some of my old armour will fit Sif, if I alter it a little. Where is she right now?"

"In the anteroom of the Great Hall."

"Hm. Well, I will bring the armour with me. Now, I believe you had better speak with your wife."

"But should I not..."

" _Loki_. You cannot avoid Sif forever."

Loki rolled his eyes.

_Sadly not._

"Very well, I will go and hold her hand while you take care of the armour."

"That is acceptable. Now shush, I still have to get my hair done."

* * *

_[Sif]_

Loki returned after only a short while, but it had been enough time for a deep, seething anger to take hold of Sif.

Not only did he command her to _stay_ like a dog, but he also had the gall to just run off after throwing cruel remarks at her head.

Not to mention the blatant insult of turning up to their handfasting in _robes_. As if she would subject herself to even more mockery and ridicule by wedding him while he wore something that was barely fit to be a nightgown.

"What do you think you are doing?"

She tried to say it without inflection and failed.

Loki paused in fussing with his garments.

"I am waiting for mother."

"What."

That, she managed to say without a trace of feeling, surprise momentarily overriding her wrath.

The trickster made an annoyed sound.

"Mother will give you some of her old armour to wear for the ceremony and the feast. Don't worry about the size, she will no doubt enchant it to fit you. Granted, your _own_ armour would have been far more appropriate than some hand-me-down but we will just have to make..."

"Loki. Why. Would I be wearing. The Queen's. Amour."

Loki blinked at her, as if she had just asked an incredibly stupid question.

"I will be wearing a mage's robes. Of course you will be wearing armour."

Sif resisted the urge to growl in frustration.

"Yes, but _why_?"

He blinked at her, again.

"We will both be wearing the clothes of our trade."

"Our _trade_."

"Well, yes. I am a mage, you are a warrior." He gestured to indicate both of them. "Therefore I will be wearing robes, and you will be wearing armour."

Sif was rather certain her expression suddenly bore an unflattering likeness to a goldfish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There I promised you an update in a few hours and then I barely make the same-day-deadline. *facepalms*


End file.
